sometimes i still need you
by EndWorldPeas
Summary: It's just a thing. (A vague summary for a vague story.) One-shot.


sometimes i still need you

1/1

I hate this.

Fine, that is an exaggeration. The feeling of hate, when honestly meant, causes heartache and death. I only feel heartache, though, so I guess I could say that I strongly dislike this.

She won't even lie in my bed anymore, but I am making progress. Two months ago she wouldn't step foot in my room. Now we are here: on my clunky, wooden desk that never really fit the light furniture it shares a space with. It supports my weight, and sometimes Paige's weight, which is all that matters right now.

Actually, all the matters right now is Paige. Us. This. I lied: I don't dislike _this_, but I hate that _this_ is it. She refuses to make love with me in my bed. Truthfully, she could take me in the grass outside and I would still be over-the-moon, because this _is_ it. These secret moments are all I get now of the girl that used to be head-over-heels in love with me. I guess that's just what happens when you throw it all away.

A couple weeks after the Alison fiasco, I realized the mistake I had made in letting Paige go. My perfect Paige, she was everything I could have hoped for and I just walked away from her. Left her dumbstruck and alone to pick up the pieces of the heart I shattered with my stupidity. I begged for her forgiveness. Crawled on my hands and knees, and would have kept crawling on bloody stumps if it meant getting to hear the way she said my name again. She didn't just say it, she surrounded with love and warmth. I never needed to hear her say 'I love you,' when just the way she said, 'Em,' fulfilled me.

She keeps as much of her clothing on as she can now; which I really can't stand. I miss the feel of her skin against mine. Our bodies laid bare, open and without anything to hide. It took her a while in the beginning to let me see her in that way, she always felt inadequate and a little less than perfect. That's not what I saw though, she was always stunning. All the patience I had to muster until she finally saw herself the way I did was well worth it when I got to see inch by uninterrupted inch of her creamy skin. Now I am lucky if I can even just sneak a hand under her shirt.

There is a part that I do hate. The part that kills me every time is when she forgets to be stoic and I see the pain that I caused her. Like that look…

"Wait, why did you stop?" Dammit, that look that lets me know all the pain I caused her is hitting her all at once.

She doesn't answer me until after she's left me, a panting mess on my desk, and collected the little bit of clothes she does take off. "Because you're somewhere else."

"I wasn't. I'm not, I'm right here with you and you alone." I reach out for her, but it's too late. Emotionally she's miles away from me again. She gets like this when the doubt creeps in, when it becomes too much too bare. Doubts about who I am thinking of, if it's her I want to be with in our moments. And it is, it's always her, but there is no point of arguing. Once she has her doubts I lose her all over again, until she can convince herself that she doesn't care again.

Funny thing about trust, it's given so easily at first, but once it's gone…scaling Everest would be easier than getting it back. Because words are just air, empty and light. Paige needs actions and patience, but the process is painstaking and slow. I could wait forever if I could actually handle the waiting part, but every night when I go to sleep my heart cracks again because she's not with me. All I am left with is the pillow that she always used and the constant emptiness of regret in my stomach. I cry, shiver, and whisper her name, hoping that she'll hear it. The breeze will carry my voice to her somehow, maybe if we both have our windows open at the same time, and she'll hear the ache. Then she'll know that when I say I will love her forever that I am telling the truth.

It's too late for us tonight, though, the doubts have won again. It drives me crazy with fear to know they might always win. I watch her finish moving around my room with an uneasy familiarity. Occasionally stopping to bury a memory that was triggered I'm guessing. "Paige, do you think you'll ever forgive me?"

I never get an immediate answer from her anymore. She is always so calculated and reserved now. This time she waits until she is standing in my doorway. Her back still to me because sometimes she can't stand to face me. "I do forgive you, but I don't think I could ever trust you again."

Those words hurt me just as much as they still hurt her.

5.3.14


End file.
